


Watching the Time

by the_redhead_who_writes



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Mabel would so re-design her wedding dress, Protective Grunkle Ford, Protective Grunkle Stan, Wedding Fluff, no doubt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 00:20:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12287283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_redhead_who_writes/pseuds/the_redhead_who_writes
Summary: "When Mabel runs late to her own wedding, her Grunkles are watching the clock." A little fluff to brighten your night!





	Watching the Time

**Author's Note:**

> Hey dorks! This fic was inspired by typona‘s (typona.tumblr.com) gorgeous drawing of our favourite Grunkles from Gravity Falls (typona.tumblr.com/post/165742783947/he-sighed-while-peering-at-the-watch-for-the). They also issued a challenge: write a little something to go along with it! 
> 
> Now, how could I turn that down? 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this fluff!

The venue was grand, Stan noted, as he took another sip from his expensive looking crystal champagne flute. High arched ceilings; stringed globe lights and fabric bows lining the walls; even a small, bubbling fountain in the corner of the dance floor. Neon lights flickered, polka-dotting the room and its patrons… or maybe that was just his cataracts.

The DJ was playing some new-age pop song he had no hope of recognizing while the hundreds of Mabel’s friends and loved ones chatted animatedly, a buzz in the air from a combination of excitement and the complimentary candy bar.

But even all that background noise still couldn’t drown out the sound of Ford’s foot tapping anxiously against the marble tiles.

“…She’s late.”

“Yeah, I know. She was already late when you told me that 20 minutes ago.”

“A _half-hour_ ago, Stanley,” Ford stressed, and he sighed while peering at his watch for the fifth time in a minute. “You don’t suppose something’s happened, do you?”

Stan shrugged, tugging awkwardly at the stiff bow tie around his neck. “How the hell should I know?”

When Mabel had missed her initial cue, Dipper hurriedly assured the guests that things were just “running a bit behind”. The panicked, sweaty look on the kid’s face did little to invoke confidence though, and thus, the guests were moved to the reception hall to wait.

Ford’s mouth hardened into a worried line, and Stan scoffed. “C’mon Poindexter, quit freaking out. So Mabel’s taking her sweet time; she’s probably just waiting to make some big entrance. Last I checked that girl had a thing for the dramatic.”

For the first time since they’d been moved to the other room, Ford cracked a smile. “I wonder where she got that from?”

Stan rolled his eyes, slapping his twin on the back with his free hand. “You’ll see. Any second now she’ll burst in here, and then the only thing you’re gonna need to worry about is keepin’ everybody awake during your speech.”

Ford _“hmph-ed”_ , reaching into his suit jacket pocket and pulling out his set of perfectly organized cue cards. “My speech was written with the utmost forethought and grammatical prowess. _You_ didn’t even write yours down!”

“Why bother? I’ve got it all up here.” The younger twin tapped his index finger to his temple, a smug grin on his face. Ford only grumbled in response, flipping through his notes.

Stan smirked, satisfied with his attempt at distracting his brother, even if just for a second. But it was getting harder to ignore the growing knot in his _own_ stomach, the feeling of clammy hands inside his gloves.

_Mabel is fine. Of course she’s fine._

Then a blast of an organ beginning to play had everyone in the room turning around, cheering in anticipation. Stan released a heavy breath, and he watched Ford visibly sag beside him.

The old man chuckled, quickly downing the rest of his drink. “Looks like it’s showtime.”

Guests shuffled into the main hall, taking their seats in the pastel-decorated room. Soos was already crying, blowing his nose into a checkered handkerchief. All eyes were on the back doors as the music crescendoed, and when they creaked open at last, the wedding party made their way through.

Candy and Grenda wore matching bridesmaid dresses of pink and purple _(homemade, no doubt)_. An aging Waddle’s tottered in after them, a satin pillow gripped tightly in his pudgy mouth to carry the rings. And then, the moment arrived. Getting to their feet, the guests watched as the Bride finally appeared in the doorway.

Mabel walked down the aisle by her father’s side, radiating with giddy energy. Her hair was pulled up into an intricate braid, small flowers tucked into the design to match her lace veil. And her dress…

Rapid, hushed whispers broke out in the crowd. Ford’s eyes bugged; Stan choked back a laugh.

Patterns of multi-coloured stars, flowers and swirls were splashed across the stark white fabric, and judging by the slight sheen of the glue underneath, they were _very_ fresh.

Stan grinned as she slowed her pace next to them, whisper-yelling  _(much to Ford’s chagrin)_ , “Kept us waiting for an art project, huh?”

Mabel beamed, sending her Grunkle a quick wink. “What? I thought it needed more glitter!”


End file.
